Killer Ambition

55

The judge turned to Terry. “Who posted his bail, Counsel?”

“I-don’t know, Your Honor. All I know is that Mr. Averly called to tell me he’d bailed out. I didn’t ask how.”

Probably because she didn’t want to know.

“Well, it should be easy enough to find out,” the judge said. He motioned for his bailiff to come over.

“Your Honor, I think we should be putting all of this on the record in open court,” I said. “I see no reason why this information should be kept under wraps.”

I was plenty mad, but I wasn’t about to miss the opportunity to give the defense a little bad press. If Averly was on the run, he looked guilty as hell, and that made our case look that much better-against both him and Ian Powers. Terry objected, but the judge agreed there was no reason why the public couldn’t know that Averly had absconded. When he announced that Averly was at large, the entire spectator gallery erupted in gasps, and one reporter even yelled out loud, “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“Come to order!” the judge declared, fixing that reporter with an infuriated glare that would’ve melted a normal person. “You don’t speak. You observe, with your mouth closed. Got it?” He turned to the bailiff. “I want to know who posted his bail. In the meantime, I’m issuing a bench warrant for the arrest of Jack Averly. Detective Keller, please give the information on him to the clerk. I guess for now, that’s all on the matter of People v. Jack Averly. Next case.”

As we packed up to make room for the next hearing, I studied Terry’s face for any sign that she’d known this was coming. She might be one hell of an actress, but it didn’t look like it to me. In fact, she looked pretty angry.

Bailey and I walked out to the elevators, trailed by reporters, all of whom were shouting questions: “What does this do to your case?” “Were you planning to make him an offer to testify against Powers?” “Who do you think bailed him out?” I brushed by them all with a “No comment” and left them to stampede Terry as she walked out of the courtroom. Over the ding of our elevator, I heard her say, “I have no doubt my client will return. Jack Averly wants his day in court and he knows the People have no case.”

“I can’t friggin’ believe they dropped the ball like this,” Bailey said when we got off on the eighteenth floor. Her face was white with anger.

I waited until we got to my office and closed the door. “Ian had to have been the one to bail him out-”

“Probably his money, but I doubt it was under his name-”

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” I said. Ian had a lot of friends-probably in both high and low places-who’d be glad to do him a favor. “But I don’t see why Ian would help him run. He had to know that Averly turned down a deal to testify against him. Ian had nothing to worry about.”

My office phone was ringing almost continuously. The press was in full feeding frenzy mode. I watched with a sense of vengeful satisfaction as Melia put each line on hold. She’d route them to Sandi in her own good time. Let those reporters get a taste of Melia’s efficiency for a change.

“But Averly did. He knew you’d prove the accessory charges. So maybe he was freaked out about doing a few years in prison after all.”

And maybe Ian knew better than to trust Averly’s resolve once he found himself locked up with Bubba in a four-foot cell. I was frustrated, but there was nothing I could do now except hope that Averly stumbled and got caught. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed it was still raining-though it was more of a heavy mist with fine, thin drops. I watched them fall for a moment. “There is at least one bright side: it makes Averly look guilty as hell, and that spills over onto Ian as well.”

“True. And you want another bright side? Terry Fisk is out of our hair.”

I turned back to Bailey as the realization sank in. “Man, that is good news.”

“We’ve got another week and a half before Ian’s prelim, right?”

“Yeah, and all I have left to do is see what I can pull out of the coroner,” I said. “If it’s really juicy, I might save it for trial.”

Bailey stood. “Look, I want to get into it with the unis who were supposed to be watching Averly, so-”

“Go. See you later.” I didn’t envy those patrol officers. Bailey can really blast when she’s angry. And triple homicide or no, someone really should’ve stayed behind to keep an eye on that jerk.

With Averly out of the picture for now, I had time to work on my other cases. But first I searched my phone for the ringer control and turned it off. Better. But I could still see the blinking lights for my two lines. I covered the buttons with a file folder. Perfect. No more sound, no more fury. I put my head down and worked until almost seven o’clock. I packed up to leave and had just reached for my cell when it vibrated. I looked at the screen. The number was vaguely familiar, so, thinking it was one of my witnesses, I answered.

“Hello?”

“Rachel Knight, how are you this lovely evening?”

The now-familiar British accent told me it was my buddy from the National Inquisitor, Andrew Chatham. I cursed myself for not realizing why the number looked familiar. “I’m fine, Andrew. But you know I’m not going to tell you anything, so why waste your time?”

“Because you may change your mind and I’m the sort who’s ever hopeful. I can be useful, you know.”

My silence told him what I thought about the likelihood of that statement. Now listening only for a chance to end the call with a graceful exit line, I juggled my purse onto my shoulder and snapped my briefcase closed.

He resumed. “Proof of my worthiness: You have not seen the last of Terry Fisk.”

I stopped and clutched the phone. “What do you mean?”

“She’s joining Ian’s team.”